


By Any Means

by Old_Friends_Bookends



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Old_Friends_Bookends/pseuds/Old_Friends_Bookends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the biggest night of his life, Mycroft stands Greg up. Mycroft attempts to get him back after he spots Lestrade flirting. Sexy Mycroft times ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. broken hearts and party hats.

Greg sat alone at the table. The dim lightening cast shadows along the dark, decadent floorboards. He winced: it had been two hours. He understood the Mycroft had to work; running the world could play havoc with dating engagements, but he promised. That was Mycroft; making promises he could never hope to keep. Greg wondered why he loved him so much it hurt as he sat in the posh restaurant in a three hundred pound suit. Sure, it wasn't the three piece marvels that Mycroft always wore, but it was a lot of his wage; money that Greg had saved for this special occasion. He sighed. Obviously Mycroft wouldn't show; who was Greg to think he would?

As Greg stood to leave, he left a small velvet box on the table.

 

{oOo}

 

As Mycroft sat at his desk, in some meeting with some dignitary of some far off country nobody could even pronounce the name of, his mind shifted to Gregory. It had been weeks since the dinner he missed and Greg still hadn't been returning his calls. It was obvious he hadn't meant to skip the meal; work had a habit of getting in the way. Greg knew that. He said he understood. Was he lying? Mycroft chuckled; a bitter, twisted laugh. No, only Sherlock could lie to him. He had felt himself slipping into a sad sort of state; watching Greg from afar. He'd been trying to piece his life back together but he still hadn't called. 7 p.m. Mycroft excused himself from the meeting, feigning illness. He slipped into his office and locked the door. His chair sighed; the well warn fabric giving him a warm welcome. Mycroft turned on his computer and up popped the familiar screen, Gregory in a bar. He sipped from his tumbler of scotch as Greg flitted across the screen. Greg leant across the bar towards a woman and whispered something in her ear; it must have been something funny because she blushed and giggled softly. Mycroft felt the bile rise in his throat. That should be him.

He downed the rest of his scotch and took his car back to his empty mansion of a home.


	2. Suit of armor.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg loves a man in a suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a two parter. Squee.

Gregory Lestrade did not sulk. No, he just wasn't feeling too good that day so decided to sit in his office. The man worked with Sherlock bloody Holmes; he deserved a medal, not meddling by a certain consulting detective and his favorite doctor. Greg sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose; funny enough, Sherlock had now become his favorite Holmes brother. He loved Mycroft. Actually, physically loved him. So much that his heart felt like pounding out of his chest, flopping on the floor and flailing around until a cleaner sucked it up through the nozzle of the vacuum cleaner. And even then it wouldn't be enough. He had promised himself that after the witch of an ex wife (he had a few other choice names for her) he would never marry again. Yet, here he was and all he could think about it Mycroft Edwin Holmes. How they would look on their wedding day. Mycroft in a charcoal grey suit, the lining a silky pale blue. They'd match his eyes, Greg thought. He wet his lips when he thought about peeling each layer from Mycroft's slim build. Greg felt his hand slowly slip towards his lap, eyes firmly closed.

That was the moment Sherlock burst into the room. Literally burst: the door flew open so hard Greg thought it would come from its hinges. He was so transfixed on the image of the door dropping to the floor he missed the blatant detail that Sherlock wasn't alone. No, he was practically dragging a form behind him, that of the British government. Before Greg had the chance to shout, Mycroft was deposited on the comfy but back breaking sofa in the corner of the D.I's office. Sherlock motioned, non to subtly, for Greg to join them. As he heaved himself down onto the sofa, he noticed that Sherlock had hold of Mycroft's favorite umbrella. He chuckled softly. Something which didn't go unnoticed. The silence was deadly; Mycroft at one end of the sofa, Greg at the other. Sherlock sat on the table covered in case files.

"you two are idiots. Absolutely idiots." Sherlock spoke with an air of authority. Silence. "You love each other. Although how anybody could love Mycroft is beyond me." he sneered. Greg bit back a scathing retort. Sherlock knew he was getting to them; Mycroft was unusually quiet and Greg couldn't resist the urge to help his love. He was gently edging closer. Ugh, idiots Sherlock thought.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way..."  
Mycroft huffed, "I'm easy." he muttered, though you'd have to strain your ears to hear. Greg smirked, "I'm hard." he took a glance at Mycroft and was glad to see his smile; a true genuine smile forming on his face. Sherlock's however, had completely disappeared. His face was now contorted in disgust. He grunted and threw the umbrella at the sofa, fleeing the room, his coat bellowing out behind him. 

Greg and Mycroft melted into a fit of laughter. Neither realizing when their hands, thighs, lips touched.


	3. Hope for a better tomorrow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT SMUT SMUT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First ever smut work. Please comment to say what I've done wrong *nervous laugh*

Before they knew it Mycroft was on his back. Greg looked down at him with lust blown eyes. It had been a week since he'd had the real Mycroft in front of him; his usually perfect suit wrinkled and creased. He licked his lips; God, he'd missed this. Greg leant close and kissed the corner of Mycroft's lips. He tasted of tea and biscuits and just a hint of something else. Something completely delectable; Greg wanted to devour ever inch, he wanted to make sure that taste never left his lips. That the smell never left his skin.

Mycroft growled and pinned Greg to the stiff leather couch. "You flirted with her." His voice was harsh. "You are mine! Not hers" Greg gasped as Mycroft crashed their lips together. Hard and needy. Of course Mycroft had been watching, he always was. Mycroft clawed at Greg's work shirt. The fabric ripped, exposing the small amount of fur on his chest. Mycroft smirked and pulled the shirt away. He poked out his tongue to lap at Greg's pink nipple. The hard nub felt like heaven in Mycroft's mouth; he sucked hard on it, eyes fixed on Greg as his gave the other nub the same treatment. 

He slowly unbuttoned the shirt and dropped it to the floor. It laid there, abandoned, as Mycroft worked his hand down to Greg's belt. Greg let out a whine in protest at the speed; it had been ages! He needed Mycroft's cock and he needed it now. Smiling Mycroft worked slower, thumping the hem of Greg's work trousers. He shifted to straddle the older man, grounding his arse into Greg's crotch. Mycroft smirked and leaned forwards to Greg's face; their lips almost touching as Mycroft hissed. "You are my dirty little slut. Nobody else's. Got it?" Greg nodded and bucked his hips up. Licking his lips Mycroft moved to Greg's neck; licking a stripe up the tender flesh before sinking his teeth in. He sucked hard at the son, his tongue lapping at the new mark. Mycroft pulled back and smirked to himself. Punishing Greg was fun enough. But he needed to feel Greg. He needed to plunder his love. To forget all about the woman from the bar. To make Greg his again.

He tugged roughly at Greg's belt and threw other across the room; it flopped down at some unknown destination. Mycroft unzipped his trousers before motioning at Greg to pull off his. Greg obliged all to willingly, depositing his trousers next to his ruined shirt. Mycroft nuzzles the taller mans hardened cock through the silk boxer shorts, on hand thumping his own erection. He grinned when the pool of wetness on the fabric grew with leaking precum. Mycroft pulled the boxers down with his teeth. A sight that made Gregory moan. He bucked his hips, pressing the head of his cock to Mycroft's lips. Mycroft sucked expertly then pulled away. He realised not preparing Greg would get his point across so he unbuttoned his trousers and let them pool around his ankles. No underwear; Greg groaned again, his weeping head begging to be noticed. The younger man chuckled and lifted Greg's legs, instinctively the detective wrapped them roughly around his waist. Mycroft leveled his erection with Greg's slightly puckered entrance. He groaned at the tightness of Greg's heat as he pushed inside. Greg winced but bucked his hips; he knew it would sting a bit with no preparation but rocked his hips anyway. 

Mycroft slammed in to the hilt and Greg yelped. "Shit. Fuck. Myc!" he panted and bucke his hips. The sting now gave way for the pleasure he felt in his gut. The pleasure grew even more at the feeling of Mycroft filling every inch of him. They rocked their hips together; setting an excruciating pace. Mycroft was panting and sweaty above him; he leant down and nipped at Greg's earlobe. "My fucking... Mine." Greg knew Mycroft was close, it was when he couldn't string a proper sentence together. The thought made Greg moan his lovers name, his hands scratching up Myc's back. "Come for me Myc. I... God.. I want to feel you fill me. Make me yours..." Mycroft growled and slammed his hips into the older mans. Groaning, panting and the slap of flesh on flesh filled the room as Greg came first, crying out harshly. Mycroft's name fell from his lips as ropes of cum spurted into their stomachs. He kissed Mycroft hard, muscles clenching around his sensitive cock as Mycroft continued to plough him hard. A loud, hoarse cry of 'GREG!' was pulled from mycroft's lips and was swallowed by Greg as they rocked to completion. Both men panting as they bathed in the afternoon of their orgasms. Mycroft flopped onto Greg's chest and gently pulled his aching cock out of the other mans leaking hole. With a sigh the men stared at each other. 

"No underwear Myc?" Greg chuckled as the pair exchanged lazy kisses.


End file.
